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Short Fiction - Dialogue With Snakes pg 7[1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11] Her tired eyes, strained from the long day and the low light, were putting images into her peripheral vision, snakes she decided, just on the edge of the underbrush. Whenever she looked directly at where she'd thought something was, there was never anything there, nothing moved in this wilderness but her. Tiny parasites, she told herself, swimming in my aqueous humour. Nothing more. Tricks of the light on billions of microscopic insects. I'm swimming, she thought, and it did seem that way, pushing through liquid. When she heard his voice, she could hardly believe it. "Kit!" and Al was in sight as she turned, running after her, a look of terror on his face. He caught up to her and could barely halt his flight, even after throwing his arms around her and using her inertia to slow him down. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and head, hugged her close to his chest, kissed her hair. "Oh god, Kit," he whispered. "I came back when you didn't follow me to the motel. I found your note - God, how could you try this alone? Why didn't you wait until morning at least?" She tried pulling away, gently, but he hugged harder so she could feel the quick beating of his heart against her neck. "Al," she managed, "Relax, please. You shouldn't have come. I'm almost through." "Almost through?" Still holding her shoulders, he drew back far enough to look down into her face. "You're barely a hundred meters from the place you taped your note." What? "I've been gone for a long time - haven't I? I must have gone a couple of miles by now. What do you mean? You got so winded in a hundred meters?" "Kit," he said, "I left you ten minutes ago. Don't - you're scaring me. Let's get out of this damn place." Ten minutes? Kit put her face in her hands, and Al hugged her close again. Everything was like a dream, like hallucinating. This place was playing with her mind, just like the brochure had said it would. And she had been so cocky. Almost through. "Come on," he said. "There's probably still some food left." He stepped away, holding one of her hands, back in the direction she had come. In the distance, she could see the dark grassy slope leading back to the motel. He tugged on her hand, but she stood her ground. "Al, we have to talk." This was right, after all. In this place, where everything was dreamy but clear - because this thing with Al had to either end now or come into the open. He stopped pulling. "Oh, Kit," he said, and moved closer, taking her other hand as well. "Okay. What's on your mind?" "Look." She pushed a strand of red behind her ear. Funny how Al's mere presence seemed to make her hair jump out of the ponytail. "I don't know how to explain this, but I'll be as clear as I can. This is going to sound dumb. I think - it's time for me to move on, to change my life." She was so alive here, the decision so right. "I've been stuck, for so long. Same job, same thoughts, same mistakes over and over again. I like you a lot, but this - friendship, whatever it is, isn't going to make it through what's coming unless you want it to. I'll stand by whatever decision you make. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?" "Kit," he said, "don't think so much." He reached out and brushed her hair back from her face again. "Not thinking and letting my life run me instead of the other way around is what I've been doing wrong for so long. I've got to change, and with or without you, I'm going to do it. What do you want?" Al exhaled loudly. "We've been friends a long time, Kit." "I know," she said. "So do you support me now, or do I go on alone? Your choice." "I don't know." He brought his fists down a couple of times on her shoulder. "Kit, please, you don't have to be so mysterious and - I don't know. This isn't necessary. Just accept the way things are, the way I am, the way you are. There's nothing at all wrong with your life, nothing. You have a job, which is a miracle to begin with in this economy, and this business. You have respect. You do like what you do, don't you?" And in her head, she felt that vital feeling shutting down, like a dying motor. Too hard. We're human after all. Dreaming of glory, our feet firmly embedded in the ground. A tired cliche. What was she? an assistant stage manager in a small summer stock touring company, her only possessions her Equity card, two bags, a couple of changes of clothes, the odd novel to pass the time between shows. Her watch. She could hope for the usual little benefits and perks in the years to come, maybe a job with a stationary theatre some day. back to jenstuff
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